A I
by LucaBlightIsPUCA
Summary: [A dystopian AU with a slice of life love story]. Near woke up in a destroyed place without any memory of his previous personal life. The only clue which guided him through his search is his memories of two men (Nate River and Mihael Keehl) who seemed to be entangled in a romantic relationship. Strangely, he always saw his memories through a screen of the same video camera.
1. Questions and Probabilities

**Disclaimer: Death Note and all of its characters, story line, and properties belong to their respective owner and creator, Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. This fanfiction is purely written for fans' satisfaction without any intention of gaining any profit.**

 **Warning: Before you progress with the story, I've to remind you of a few things. This fic will contain character death (yes, I've pretty much planned the outcome of this story). Also, I need to remind you that English isn't my native language, so expect some errors.**

* * *

 _The picture which was framed by a screen of a video camera was shaking horribly. It was close to impossible for one to fully extract the information from the blurs and shakes which were the picture. The shaking screen and the blurry picture, nevertheless, were finally held together in a proper balance as a face of a man came to fill the tiny screen. "So, here we are again," as he was taking a hold of the camera, the man started and cleared the huskiness which had just tinted his greeting voice. In the background, the sound of 'pi pi pi' was constant yet slow and close yet distant. "This is Mihael Keehl." The man—Mihael Keehl—was a normal looking blond who was about in his mid twenties, except for the scar which blanketed the side of his face. He took a moment of silence as he stared at the screen with a neutral look in both of his blue eyes then spoke informatively, "This is day 4 and Nate still hasn't shown any sign of waking up."_

 _The screen swooshed swiftly and it stopped and the focus of the image shifted instantly. The video camera was now filming another man who was laying unconscious in a hospital bed._ _ _By judging the close shoot of the new subject, Mihael was just positioned beside him._ That another man, anyway, was seen supported by the hospital tools, one covered his nose and mouth, one was injected into his veins, a layer of white blanket slept on his apparently frail, lithe body. The man was young, a feature of childishness spread upon his pale, white face, though in fact, he was only two years younger than Mihael._

 _The screen shifted once more and went back to Mihael. The camera frame was immediately full by a halo of straight blonde strands and his face. The neutral look which he'd been keeping began to crumble. His brows wrinkled slightly, his lips tightened, drawing a thin—almost straight—line. "Today, I just met Doctor Tim and he said that the only reason Nate was still alive was because of the hospital tools." He paused in an attempt to regain more self composure. His lips slightly parted, his tongue came out a bit and wet those lips. He sighed. "But, I won't lose hope. God knows that I can't let you go." He directed the screen at the white-haired man once again. The man was still laying there, unconscious, and Mihael's words went into deaf ears. "So, wake up ..."_

 **A.I.**

 **Chapter I: Questions and Probabilities**

"… _Wake up soon, you big-headed twit."_

A pair of eyes snapped open, swiftly revealing two bleak irises. A man, a white-haired man was on the ground, constantly laying there amongst the ground of ruins and destroyed pieces. His face pale yet, it painted a steady feature. There was a very familiar child-look which seemed to never want to leave his face.

The man wasted no more seconds to stand on his feet, to make out a clear view of the environment he was put in now. His person, however, had first stolen his attention. His steady gazes abruptly fell on his body. His right hand—which he realized immediately was wrapped in a black glove—arose, five fingers traced the hardness which form the black protection gears that were embracing his lithe form. He was constant for a moment before his views finally collapsed on the rest of his person—the same black glove was protecting his left hand and there were a pair of black boots for his feet. All of his equipments went under the same condition. They were worn out, with dirt and their ripped materials, looking at them would make one say that they were not appropriate anymore.

The man's mind went dynamic in a second. Judging silently, he thought that what he was wearing definitely served the purpose of protecting the wearer from something. The important question roused here: what had they protected him from?

His steady, unnerving stares descended on his surrounding. At a first glance, one would have judged that something catastrophic had hit the place, an earthquake—perhaps a typhoon even. The place was, without any doubt, in complete ruins—everything: buildings and structures were scattered in pieces, destroyed to patterns not recognized. This, unfortunately, created a new problem, he could not possibly make out a pattern of the direction with everything destroyed like this. However, he was certain that he was currently in a city. The concretes and steels which piled up on the ground, also the fissure on the grey, broken asphalt, proved that they had used to be ones as modern buildings or structures. Nevertheless, the area, as far as one's functional eyes could reach, was vacant of any living form. Questions began to swirl in an endless madness in his mind. What would the catastrophic disaster be? When had this taken time? Where were the people, was it perhaps they had been evacuated to a safer place? Then, what was he doing here? Where was he? What year was this?

The white-haired man's hand, which had been resting on his chest, moved to undo the suit—first, the one on his body then the one on his legs. A white fabric peeked at the surface as soon as he released himself from the suit. He then did the same for the gloves. And no, he decided for the best to keep the boots because he was certain that he was not in any appropriate footwear. He put them on the ground, amongst the other debris. Whatever had happened, the equipment had served their purpose, he decided. Then, he was thinking, perhaps he had been sleeping when this catastrophic thing had taken place, for he was revealed to be wearing a piece of white pajama.

The petite man's eyes, a pair of black orbs, darted to the sky. It was hues of mixed reds. It was as if the sun had got closer, and he could sense that the day had got hotter. Nevertheless, the emptiness of the sky itself was the one which captured his attention the most. The sky seemed dead— _no_ , it was dead, he concluded. It was too silent, too empty—where was everyone, _everything_?

The man's right hand elevated, taking a strand of white hair around his fingers, he began twirling it. Among the questions which apparently bore no answers, _these questions_ forced the gears in his mind to work harder. How could he possibly not remember what had happened? Perhaps, something had hit him on the head—after all, he had not been wearing any head gear. This possibility, unfortunately, begged more questions. How could he not get any injuries on his person? How could he wake up here, in this dystopia, feeling just fine? His hand, which was twirling his hair, moved around on his head. Then, it shifted position to his body, pressing the subtle skin, checking everything. But, no, unexpectedly, he did not feel any sting of pain.

A slight frown graced the man's feature. If something had indeed hit his head, would he still be capable of counting? Would he still remember the capital city of England or America? Would he still remember how to use his common sense? For the last question, he was precisely certain he would, for he could still initiate an act to check on suspected injuries on his person. His stares hardened, darting to an empty space in front of him. _One plus one equals two_ , he began, and he tried a harder equation now, _The integral of 2sinx is -2cosx + C_. He remembered how to count. He tried again, _The capital city of England is London_ , _while America's is Washington D.C._.

The pale man was precisely sure he recalled the basics. So, what about his personal life, his very own self? The only memory which had found the surface of his mind was the one where he had been in a hospital, laying unconscious. There had been a man who had gone by the name Mihael Keehl, talking to a video camera. He assumed that this man had actually held some kind of connection with himself. And … the man called him 'Nate'. So, that would make him Nate, would it not? As he was recalling more of this previous moment, he found his logic began to get distorted. If he had been unconscious, how could he have possibly seen Mihael Keehl talking to the camera? Was it perhaps he had seen the recording when he had gained consciousness? This question only created another question. The picture shown in his memory was not the one where he had been taking a hold of the video camera, looking at the recording, instead, it was actually from the video camera itself.

His frown deepened. His fingers found their ways to his hair, twirling as well as pulling at it tightly. This was a dissatisfaction—not knowing the facts, the truths. Perhaps, if he dug deeper into his very own mind, he would eventually find something. Yes, there should have been something ….

* * *

 _There was that screen of the same video camera again, now focusing solely on a pale face, two black eyes, and a mess of white strands. A hand came into the view, the thumb climbed up, pressing the pale skin, caressing it in a circling motion. It then shifted position to the pale forehead, sweeping away some bangs which rested on the forehead. "There," the familiar voice echoed. "You're Near."_

 _The one called Near looked up._ His expression held this steady curiosity. _"But I remember you called me 'Nate'."_

 _There was approximately three seconds of silence before the familiar voice countered, "You're not him. You're just …"_

* * *

"… I'm just _what_?" The force in the pale man's finger increased, the pulling of his hair became stronger. It was useless, the continuation of the event in his memory just would not want to reach the surface no matter how hard he tried to urge it out.

Presumably, it was safe for him to consider that Near in his memory was indeed himself, for, first, Near was not Nate, second, he and Nate actually shared the same appearance—so was the man in his memory. It was a rarity for more than two people to share the same appearance. So, he would be Near, he concluded. And perhaps, Nate was his twin brother—it was just, of course, his logical assumption.

The familiar voice would have belonged to Mihael Keehl. Near was a hundred percent sure of it. He did not fathom or remember why or how, but Mihael's voice was crafted perfectly, so fine, in his mind that he would not have possibly mistaken the man's voice for anybody else's.

But, who was this Mihael Keehl? Who was Nate or Near, really? Why did he have it with him, the memory which did not belong to him?

The force in Near's fingers reduced as he tried to relax and gain more self composure. Eventually the movement of his fingers came to a sudden stop. A small exhale slipped out of his thin lips and his hand dropped to his side. He actually remembered, he knew and understood common sense, the basics. However, he seemed to have forgotten his personal life, of who he had been in the past. Too, the memory of the disaster which had befallen this place he was currently at seemed to be lost—he did not have it. The logical cause of this would be an amnesia must have hit him. He must have forgotten some of his previous life events. However, he breathed relief for the memories seemed to be returning at him slowly.

It was alright, he just needed to try harder to remember.

* * *

" _It isn't a necessity to record this activity."_

 _There was that pale face, filling the screen of the same video camera. Its porcelain skin tinted pink. Those thin lips parted ever so slightly, breathing in and out the ecstasy. And those bleak, black eyes were half closed, their vision clouded with pleasure.  
_

 _The room was not dark, but it was not bright either. The light was a blurry orange and yellow, which presumably came from a lamp which was occupying the room. However, it was sufficient, the lightning was enough and just right._

" _Of course it is. You're having an orgasm and that's a perfect moment to be recorded." And that all too familiar voice echoed, again and again. One of Mihael's hand came into the screen, grabbing the pale face. His thumb found its stop at the pale cheek, pressing the apparently soft skin as if it were a lump of dough. The thumb began to move in a circle, caressing the cheek with what one could comprehend as an affection. "C'mon,_ Nate _, come for me." From on top of Nate, his voice trailed off, asking in that characteristically soft yet deep and rich tone which only belonged to him.  
_

 _Nate's head—which was currently resting on a pillow—moved up and down in a constant motion. His parted lips let out a soft moan. "Stop it, Mihael." He meant to be clear, firm, and resolute. But, damn the pleasure, damn Mihael Keehl—he could not have possibly held back that moan. Thus, he brought a hand to cover the screen._

 _And the picture went black in an instant …._

* * *

At the newly found memory, a frown found its way to grace Near's face. That _doesn't answer anything_ , he thought. _That_ just created more questions—ones which were not resolved. Why did the memories actually have to come out through a screen of a video camera—the same video camera? Why did he remember moments which did not even belong to him? He was certain that he had not been in the same place when Nate and Mihael had made love together. Verily, it would have been inappropriate. Most importantly, why would Mihael Keehl be there, in every of his surfacing memory? It was obvious that Nate and Mihael had shared a special relationship. But, what about Near? What kind of relationship had he shared with Mihael? Who was a Mihael Keehl to him, was he perhaps someone important which actually became the reason behind his reoccurring appearance in Near's memories?

All of these memories were randomly coming out. However, Near could actually draw a pattern out of it. And the pattern was one—it was always one, one person. And it was Mihael Keehl.

But, _why_?

 _No_ , Near assured himself. It was only the third try. Perhaps, he should try to swim into the current of his memories once more. That way, he could rest assured. However, his fourth attempt eventually bore no result. The gears in his mind worked even harder and his eye lids rolled down. It was dark, no light to make out any significant picture which could give him any information. A sigh escaped the gap of his lips. It was no use. His memories did come out randomly. He could not urge one out, not even a single peek of it.

Waiting for the answers to magically grace his memory was like waiting for the snow to actually happen in the middle of a dessert. It was not a wise decision, of course. The worse scenario possible, if Near did not find something—or someone—soon, he would die of hunger or thirst. Above it all, the worst could be dying alone, among these ruins, without eventually knowing the answers to all the questions which had been driving his mind to the brink of insanity. Dying alone without the precise answers to the why or how was not a part of the plans in his agenda.

Near concluded, finally, that only time would tell, that it was near to impossible for him to actually solve all of these endless questions by relying solely on his random memories. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he walked far enough, there would be something—or _someone_. However, that sounded merely like a baseless hope, and he was not one to put his faith in hope. His mind wondered briefly whether Nate eventually shared this same pattern of thinking. And, for a fraction of seconds, his own mind echoed to him, telling him that he actually was not capable of having such privilege as faith. Silently, he wondered why. Nevertheless, he quickly dismissed the thought. It was not his focus at the moment, he decided.

Besides, when he had thought better about it, that was not a mere, baseless hope. No, he decided that it could not be called a hundred percent aimless walk, for he was actually looking for something. Perhaps, if he was lucky enough, he would find some kind of telecommunication devices. That way, he could contact the police and get some help. Possibly, he could contact Nate, or Mihael, seeing as of now, those two were the only ones who apparently held some kind of connection to him. However, that plan alone arose another problem. How could he possibly contact the police if he alone did not know where he was at the moment? How could he possibly contact Nate or Mihael if he himself did not remember their numbers? Perhaps, if he was lucky enough, he would find something along his walk, like a remarkable structure which defined the country he was currently in, like Big Ben, The White House, or the Eiffel Tower. Although judging by the condition he was currently put in right now, there was also a possibility of the structure being destroyed, he would make out some patterns—no, even a single remarkable pattern would be sufficient enough for the purpose of location recognition. Then again, if he was lucky enough, the memory of Nate's or Mihael's number would come to him at just the right time.

Well, that was, if he was indeed lucky enough. That seemed more like a gambling, the game of probability. _But, in a condition like this, I have no other choice. I have to set the bet_. And when he had made this decision, it was inevitable to walk towards the unknown.

 **To be Continued**

* * *

 **A/N: This story is actually a dedication to the major which I failed to take due to my hesitation, and also a rewrite of the original first chapter that I wrote first because I felt dissatisfied of it. And well, I hope this one turns out alright. Tell me what you think about it though.  
**


	2. Walking and Struggling

**Disclaimer: Death Note and all of its characters, story line, and properties belong to their respective owner and creator, Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. This fanfiction is purely written for fans' satisfaction without any intention of gaining any profit.**

* * *

 **A.I.**

 **Chapter II: Walking and Struggling**

When Near had been sure that the uncertainty would have awaited him in his walk, he had not expected it to be this severe. It felt like, with every step he took, conditions—whether it was his or the environment's—just had to throw a question into his brain. It was not pleasant for he did not have the necessary answers to all of those endless queries, to fulfill and satisfy the thirst which had been gnawing his mind, unpleasantly making it dry, cracked open with question marks.

And, for Near, the uncertainty certainly had got into him. He was so unsure of many things, but another thing arose and made him instantly put his doubt in this matter. He had been walking, but neither hunger, thirst, or exhaustion had come to drain his lithe body. Though he had not counted the time spent for his seemingly endless walk, he was certain that he had walked far enough, for the reds which had stayed with the sky had been replaced by a curtain of the night sky.

The man had thought that perhaps, with the tall buildings and structures now in complete ruins, he would have had the chance to take a glance at the field of stars which apparently had shied away behind the once dauntless buildings and skyscrapers. Nonetheless, he had been proved wrong. The sky was _dead_ , and only a few stars and a half-moon graced the silent grave which was the night sky.

With the limited lightning, looking at his surrounding became a hard task. Due to the unknown disaster, the street light and electricity seemed to have got disabled. However, Near knew that was how it was, the broken street accompanied by the seemingly forgotten ruins, but still, it was empty of the very essence of any living being. He tried his best to keep on walking, avoiding the piles of concretes, destroyed rocks and pebbles. Once, or perhaps twice, he accidentally walked on one of the debris which obviously would trip him. He had slightly lost his balance, nevertheless, he did not fall, nor did he feel any string of pain or injury. He expected it, he thought that, as he was regaining his balance, the sensation of pain would trailed along. But, again, he was proved wrong. And always briefly, he wondered why—or perhaps, _how_. And always he dismissed the thought, for it was not his main focus at this very crucial moment.

As Near was pacing slowly yet steadily, a faint noise abruptly stole his attention. He turned his head a few degrees, taking in notes of every detail the faint sound could muster. Then, he turned his head again to the front as he immediately realized that the source of the faint sound had come from a few meters in front of him. As he walked forward, he drew out a pattern of the sound and immediately recognized that it was the noise of an obstructed electricity. Near quickened his paces, as he expected to have a further inspection on the said noise. As he neared to the object, his steady gazes immediately met with broken lamp posts, which were round and actually poor of rich ornaments. One of the round big bulbs—which were scattered on the ground—were switching on and off continuously. The extra lightning abruptly gave the chance for Near to look at his close surrounding a bit better. To the right of the lamp posts, a broken, dark brown board was laying lifelessly. On it, there was some big-sized letters. Unfortunately, most of the letters were missing or scattered to pieces not recognized. The remaining letters which were left, however, were two Cs, an A, two Es, an R, and an F. Nevertheless, they were jumbled and not placed in order. As he signed in this information into his mind, his stares hardened with anticipation.

* * *

" _How long do you think it will be until it's obvious that the change's happening here in this area? And by that time, do you think it will be too late to do anything about it?"_

 _It was dark, an utter pitch black. However, one could tell that the one who had just inquired those questions was indeed a female—a teenager, perhaps, or a young adult—for the voice was slightly pitched and highly feminine. One could also tell that her voice rose from a microphone. And, just briefly after the questions, an eruption of people's laughter echoed._

" _Yeah … well, summers are already warmer than they used to be. And if you go forward a few years, you'll begin to see the changes happen. With this, I think it's going to be a big factor in helping people to understand what's happening and to make decisions whether or not to take actions about it," another female's voice answered. This time, it sounded deeper. It was apparently an older woman, perhaps someone wiser in her field. "Is it too late already? Um, my answer to that is it's never too late. The planet will be different, we will be adapting to changes—we probably already made some interesting adaptations. Perhaps, a good example is Europe. It has experienced quite a few very, very hot summers, a lot of heat waves, variety numbers of deaths happened, and in 2003—a very bad heat wave. But, of course, after that, they began to adapt to that and they began to protect people from that kind of heat wave."_

* * *

That was the first of Near's memory to come back to him after a few hours of struggling. The gears in his mind began to speed up, as if sorting out the probabilities and the important meaning behind this current revelation. His fingers grabbed a hold of a few ivory strands, tugging at them a bit too tightly. Who had those female's voices belonged to? There had been questions and answers—which seemed to have come out from an expert's lips. Then, had it been perhaps a seminar? However, why did this memory have no picture? Perhaps, whoever had been responsible for this had used a tape recorder instead of the usual video camera. And, again, he apparently had witnessed a memory which did not belong to him—and it was always through some sort of device. Why, just why could not he just see his own memories through a normal human's eyes?

Apart from that, Near was trying to decode the information his new memory had just provided. Did this memory of his eventually suggest something? If indeed the disaster which had befallen this place was related to something like a heat wave, it would be clear that the cause of this grand destruction had not been caused by a war. The closest to that would have been a natural disaster. The problem was, what kind of natural disaster? Besides, that was just a seminar, that hardly proved anything. He decided, at the end, that he did not have the sufficient data to make out a fine and complete conclusion.

Near's mind traveled elsewhere as his hardened stares were loyally locked on the dark brown board. He began to think that, perhaps, his memories eventually had a pattern, that it was not a hundred percent random. Probably, his memories worked better when stimulated. If that was indeed the case, then, this dark brown board must have held some kind of connection to the events of his previous life. A board like this must have been a sign to a public place. Perhaps, he had gone to that public place.

* * *

 _Again, it was dark, completely, and the hubbub of a few people chattering inaudibly became the only given information. The chats were not loud, instead, they gave one a feeling of being in the midst of a comfortable, cozy tranquility which belonged to the environment of a nice café or restaurant._

" _You came after all." There was that steady voice which belonged to Nate which seemed clearer than the rest of the unknown conversations. Nevertheless, it sounded more distorted than clear._

" _Don't get me wrong, I just came along to accompany Mail. You know that he's head over heels for your sister and rather shy about it," and then, that all-too-familiar voice trailed along. "I still do_ not _like you. Keep that in your mind."_

 _Nate took a brief moment of silence before he spoke softly, "But, I think I'm quite fond of you. In fact, I think you're sort of an interesting person—challenging, just like the Mathematical equations I usually solve. The difference is that you're more unpredictable and that you don't have an obvious pattern that those equations obviously have. And that's what makes you so unresi—"_

" _God damn it, Nate, shut the fuck up!" Mihael's voice roared, abruptly cutting Nate's sentence, leaving it unfinished. "God, I don't know why Linda has a freak-of-nature brother like you while she's obviously a decent girl."_

" _I'm just being honest with what I feel."_

 _Nate's retort left Mihael without any words for a few seconds, and then, barely audible, he muttered a "creep" under his breath._

" _Sorry to keep you guys waiting," another voice abruptly filled the blank space. This time, it was a male's. "What do you guys want to order? Let me and Linda take them."_

" _Hot chocolate, 16 oz," Mihael quickly answered._

" _What about you, Nate?" a female's voice suddenly inquired._

" _I'm fine."_

" _Okay." The female's voice became the last bit of their conversation, and then, just as suddenly, the silence drifted into the current comfortable atmosphere._

 _Nonetheless, the silence last no more than half a minute for a deafening noise of a zipper being undone broke through the tranquility. As the noise met its end, there came Mihael's face all of the sudden, framed by the familiar screen of the same video camera. His face looked younger, there was a deep frown which was gracing his young,_ flawless _face. The screen moved vertically up, still in a state of filming his face. Now, it was perpendicularly face to face with his face._

" _Is something the matter?" came Nate's concerned voice._

" _No," Mihael answered briefly. The frown which had stayed on his face apparently began to subside. "It seems that I forgot to turn off the video while we were in that seminar, and now the battery's drained."_

 _And then, once again, the picture immediately went pitch black and Mihael's face disappeared into the darkness._

* * *

What an interesting development, or Near should say, a reduction of Nate's and Mihael's relationship. In one of his previous memories, they had been making love, showing off the love and affection. And now, Mihael had seemed to be an enemy to his supposed lover. Near deduced, that it would be only logical if his previous memory had taken time when Nate and Mihael had not been lovers. Mihael's flawless, young face had proved it. Then, it would be obvious that in the next time of their previous lives, Mihael had fallen for Nate. And the start of their romance was because of Mihael's supposed best friend, Mail. Near frowned slightly. Why would have Nate wanted to come along to accompany Mail's and Linda's love affair? Perhaps, Linda had forced him to come along, just like Mail had forced Mihael. _Teenagers_ , Near's thought echoed loudly within the shell of his mind. _They couldn't even take care of their own romances_.

Nevertheless, Near predicted, that it would have been a long journey for such distaste to take form into the feeling of love and affection. And, just slightly, the curiosity slipped into his mind, knocking on the door of his sense, and lastly, sent him wondering just how had Mihael and Nate plunged into such romance. Of course, he quickly diminished the feeling for it was, once again, not his main focus at this very moment.

* * *

" _Two spade." There was an undeniable smugness in that sentence, in that voice, which could only belong to one entity._

" _Pass." And then, there came another familiar voice. Was it Mail's?_

 _And another familiar voice, a feminine one, which could be recognized as Linda's voice, chimed in, "Pass."_

" _Straight flush." Lastly, there was that steady tone, very much similar to that steady one of Near's._

 _An eruption of laughter spontaneously echoed. This time, it did not belong to Mihael or Nate. It did, however, belong to Mail._

" _Serves you right for always going with two."_

" _Shut up, Mail. It was pure luck that he got those cards."_

 _The camera, which was supposed to be held by Mail, was focused on Mihael's figure. He was there, sitting with both legs crossed, on the tiled floor. A black and loose camisole, as well as baggy shorts, were hanging freely on his tanned body. His hair was tied in one knot at his back, a few of his blonde strands were flailing the flawless skin of his face. A dash of annoyance flushed his flawless face as his hands were busy with gathering the cards which were laying idly on the floor._

 _Supposedly, they were in a room, specifically, perhaps, a boy's bedroom. It was a chaos. Clothes—presumably dirty ones—were laying here and there on the white floor. Just a meter away from Mihael, stacks of CDs and DVDs were scattering in a jumbled way._

" _Okay, you know our rule, right?" Mail interjected, his previous laughter had subsided. Nevertheless, one could still hear the tinge of playfulness in his question._

" _Yeah, yeah, just get your damn hand on the powder already," Mihael prompted as he stacked the once messy cards into one, neat pack._

" _I'll go first." Mail's voice beamed with excitement as the image on the screen shook slightly._

 _An arm, which was wrapped in a long, stripped sleeve abruptly came into the screen, reaching for Mihael as the camera itself went near to the blond. It turned out that the hands were already fully coated with face powder. And, much to Mihael's dislike, the powder was spontaneously transferred to his face, painting almost half of it white._

" _You look like Snow White, only with blonde hair." Once again, at the scenery of Mihael's half-white face and the clear distaste which adorned his face, Mail's died laughter immediately came to live._

 _Mihael vented no verbal response. Instead he countered Mail's jest and laughter with a roll of eyes._

 _Linda's soft laugh trailed along. "Okay, my turn." Manicured fingers instantly filled the screen of the camera. With the white powder, they reached for the half of Mihael's untouched face and ruined it instantly with the white substance. This time, the blond's face was a hundred percent white._

" _If you guys lose next time, I'll be sure to get your hair as well."_

" _Pssh … yeah." Mail chuckled as he forced his laughter to subside. He then coughed and talked, "C'mon, Nate, grab the powder, too."_

 _The camera was moving away from Mihael, at the same time changing its focus to both him and Nate. To say that Mihael looked like Snow White would be an exaggeration, for Nate, the natural white man, seemed paler than usual with the white powder covering half of the mild skin of his face. One could witness that he did not intend to laugh on Mihael's dismay. However, he did show his amusement by silently, and secretly, curving his thin lips into a mocking smirk. If one squinted, they could see it, and Mihael did, and he glared at the pale man who was sitting just right next to him. Slowly, Nate put his forefinger on the powder which was resting on a small plate, dipping it, then taking just a small amount. He was still showing off that peculiar smirk of his when he neared Mihael. That amusement, nevertheless, silently and slowly faded away as the tip of his forefinger made the slightest contact with the skin of Mihael's temple. The image on the screen of the video camera seemed to freeze, time had no significance, and space held no bound, as that slim forefinger went down …_

* * *

… _To Nate's small nose, to both of his pale yet kissable lips, and finally that finger stopped on his V-shaped chin. Those fingers, which were painted black, were holding a steady grip on Nate's chin. The image which was from the same video camera drifted, and the last things it showed were Nate's forcedly parted lips and …_

* * *

… _Mihael's apparently astonished face, as Nate's finger and the powder found their stop at his chin._

* * *

From the board, Near looked up at the dark sky. In silence, he seemed to ponder, to question the sky itself which eventually held no apparent answer, _How come it's possible for memories which don't even belong to me to_ feel _so realistic?_ He held up a hand then mimicked what Mihael and Nate had done to each others in his previous memories. He felt nothing. He frowned, and the _feeling_ of dissatisfaction engulfed his person. His hand shifted position, then, to his hair. He grabbed a lock and forcefully twirled it. _It doesn't make any sense_ , he decided. _But_ , he then interjected, _as always, it's not my main focus at this moment._ The force which was put on his hair reduced and his thoughts steadily reorganized themselves.

Near breathed in, at the same time trying to deduce the new information given to him. Now, he was pretty sure that his memories did not come a hundred percent randomly. A trigger could possibly help, or not—it probably depended on what kind of trigger that happened to occur to him. If it held a strong connection to the past of his previous life, the chance for his memory to fade into his mind strengthened. Else, it would be a fifty-fifty. However, none of those memories apparently held some kind of strong connection with him—he had not even been there!

Near frowned slightly and darted his views to the empty space in front of him and waited, waited for another nonsense, illogical memory to drown him into the madness which was the endless, unanswered questions. However, there was nothing. He waited again, his body a static being, but the only thing he envisioned was the dark place which was surrounding his person. _Perhaps, that was it_ , he decided, _for now._

Eventually, the man decided to brave himself against the unknown—once again. And, when his tiny feet made a first step, the darkness which was engulfing the sky began to fade, silently, unbeknown to Near.

* * *

" _I know to accomplish this, there are still problem like the Natural Language Understanding to be solved," Mihael's voice echoed. It was not his usual clear, sharp and deep voice. Rather, it sounded more like it was amplified by a microphone—and further. Perhaps, he was currently talking in a different room. "But in this assignment, Mister Howard asked us to use our imagination—so, I'd like create an intelligent machine which can perfectly understand what we, humans, say and feel. So, that it can actually communicate with us, using our common sense—"_

 _The screen of the camera was adjusted at a figure. From the zoomed in shoot, one could perfectly perceive that the said figure was a fine-looking, young brunette. She seemed to be talking with a group of friends in front of the door of a classroom. Occasionally, her twin pigtails bounced ever so slightly as she sometimes let out a laugh._

 _In the background, however, Mihael's familiar voice kept ranting on and on, this time a bit vaguely._

" _Mail!" The girl figure immediately blurred as the one in charge of holding the camera seemed to have been startled by another unknown voice. "What are you doing here?"_

 _The picture shook horribly as Mail's voice filled the screen, "Fuck, Rowd, you startled the hell out of me!" He cleared his voice a bit then spoke, "I'm waiting for Mihael to finish his class so that we can have lunch together. See, the guy's still doing a presentation on his assignment." By this time, it was clearly obvious that he was the one holding the camera. Then, hastily, he put the camera down, to the side of his body. It was now filming his own feet, which was wrapped by a pair of white sneakers._

" _Are you waiting for Mihael,_ or _are you waiting for that cute girl over there?" Rowd was not fooled, it seemed._

" _What?"_

 _As a response to Mail's faked innocence, Rowd prompted, "I saw you filming Linda, even using Mihael's camera. Do you have a crush on her?" The camera was not currently shooting Rowd's face, nevertheless, his voice itself was sufficient enough to prove that he was smirking._

" _What, no! I don't even know her!"_

" _Oh, so you're her secret admirer?"_

" _Fuck off, Rowd, stop making false assumption."_

" _So, a no, eh? What a pity, I know her—she's my girlfriend's classmate, plus, she's single."_

 _Rowd was confident that he was using the right lure when Mail, with a significant enthusiasm, eagerly asked, "Wait, so, she's not an IT student?"_

" _Of course not, my sweet Mail, she's from the Art Department. Why did you even think about our department having a cute girl like her? We hardly have female students in our class."_

" _But, what's she doing here then?"_

 _And, Mail's second question was more than enough for Rowd to pull out a firm conclusion._

" _You said you weren't interested—I know you were lying. C'mon, Mail, you've been single your entire life time. It's time for you to get out of your game world and have some real life romance."_

" _Wait!"_

 _The once steady picture now shook. For a few moments of brief seconds, it succeeded in gaining a shoot of an arm in stripped sleeve being dragged forcedly by another hand. And then, just as suddenly, the picture blurred some more before it went off completely._

* * *

 _So, Mihael Keehl was Computer Science student_. That was the first thing which graced Near's mind as soon as the memory vanished into the darkness. Did this new information _eventually_ mean something? Apparently, it did not, for there had not been any other supporting information provided. Perhaps, it was just another slice of life story his memories usually displayed to him. As always, it did not seem to hold any significance with his own personal life. He started to get used to it.

And always briefly, he wondered silently, perhaps his own life was not even about him. Perhaps, it was about another, entirely different entity. He wondered why. But, as always, the thought disappeared as soon as it emerged. This, as well, he started to get used to these little, useless thoughts which somehow, unbeknown to him, occasionally and in an illogical way, came to fill the gap between those yet unanswered queries.

Near's head escalated just a few centimeters and his eyes witnessed the change which was taking place in the sky. It was dawn, probably morning would come in an hour. With the darkness now slowly fading out, he could perfectly see the path he was pacing on. And, it showed nothing. The ruins looked as if they were desperate for a life, any form of life, just as he had been desperate for the answers which could fill the crack in his mind. Perhaps, that was it, he was not tired, he was not hungry, neither did he feel thirsty—and it was all because he was … desperate. His mind quickly shook the thought away. Was that even possible? His question merged with the wind which brought to him nothing but emptiness.

If this indeed continued to stretch for a few days to weeks, would he eventually die? Would his existence be eaten up by this rotten earth? Would he disappear without knowing who he really was?

Near's right hand reached up to the sky, fingers trying in a failed attempt to get a solid grip of the newly arising morning sun. The arrays of the burning star's warm light escaped through the gaps between his small fingers. His eyes morphed into two paper-thin slits. He did not know why, perhaps, he wanted to get a better view of the sun rise. Or perhaps, there was something else—

His eyes widened instantly when the scenery of a helicopter passed through the empty spaces between his fingers. The sound of the propellers was distant, but it was deafening all of his hearing senses. The gears in his mind rotated quickly, forcing both of his feet to move, move, and move. He stepped to the side and he ran, chasing the flying machine. The best of his body's ability was put into an action, and he felt like he could fly with the speed of his run.

 _Unfortunately, he fell._

Before he could even fly, he tripped—and he _fell_ on to the ground.

His wide eyes widened even more. It did not hurt. No, it did not hurt physically. But, it felt as if the life itself had been taken out from his person, forcefully.

* * *

" _No! It's not possible!" Mihael's voice roared. It was a cry, a cry which spoke of protest._

 _The camera was apparently put on a night stand. It was filming two figures, standing face to face with each others. The camera, however, only showed the bottom half of their bodies. One of the figures was a doctor—it was for sure, for he was seen wearing a white lab coat. As for the other one, the one clad in black leather seemed to be Mihael. Beside them was Nate, still laying in the same hospital bed, eyes closed, ears shut tightly to the voices around his person._

" _Mihael, I … don't know what to be done anymore," the doctor spoke softly, as if he was afraid to wound the blond._

" _Please, tell me that you're lying!" Mihael reached forward and planted a grip on both of the doctor's lower arms._

 _It was silent for a few seconds, but Mihael broke it instantly. And once more, he cried, "Nate, Nate! Wake up!" He was grabbing Nate's shoulders, his messy blond strands were shadowing his face as he did so. He was shouting. He was crying. He was shaking. "God … Nate …"_

* * *

"… _Wake up …."_

" _Wake up."_

" _Wake up!"_

 **To Be Continued**

* * *

 **A/N: I didn't expect that it would take me this long to update the second chapter. Anyway, does anyone have any idea what game they played? It's called Cap Sa. When I'm at campus, waiting for the next class to start, I usually play it with my classmates. And, no, I don't play it for gambling. It's a fun game to kill some time. For the ones who haven't tried it, you can Google the rules. Oh, and, thank you for the people who have favorited and reviewed! I hope this second chapter is worth the wait. Tell me what you think via review!  
**


	3. The Universe, and Us

**Disclaimer: Death Note and all of its characters, story line, and properties belong to their respective owner and creator, Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. This fanfiction is purely written for fans' satisfaction without any intention of gaining any profit.**

* * *

 _"Mail, Mail!" a feminine voice glided through the quite atmosphere, along with the noises of trampled grass and the occasional breeze which foretold of a chilly night air. "Mail, I don't think this is a good idea!"_

 _And then, a low hush resonated. "It's okay, Linda!" Mail responded, his voice a hiss, husky, and low, and quite. "I'm curious anyway," he added later._

 _The picture in the screen was black, pitch black. And then, a few seconds later, it was projecting an orb of light which bore quite a distance. Nevertheless, the screen was nearing the source of light, amidst the lack of lightning the night was providing, and with the horrible balance the image was producing. The light, actually, was from a room. A dim lit room, with the orange and yellow hues of illumination which brought familiar comfort._

 _"Mail, this isn't an appropriate thing to do," Linda said, struggling with her best to reason with Mail._

 _"It is,_ Hun _," Mail countered. Presumably, he was the one in charge of holding the camera. "Curiosity is never inappropriate."_

 _"And what's with using Mihael's camera?" Linda's voice was skeptic, probably beyond it._

 _"The guy just left this laying on the table after we were done with the barbecue, so—"_

 _"That still doesn't make it right for you to just steal something that's not yours," Linda retorted quickly. "And what are you planning to do with it anyway?_

 _"Recording what they're doing, of course," Mail simply answered. "I bet they're doing_ _it_ _now." A playful chuckle then escaped him. And as the camera neared its destination, one could perfectly perceive that the light was pouring out from a window, which was, unfortunately, not closed._

 _"Okay, do whatever you want." Linda was not the focus of the screen at this very moment, however, one could perfectly make out the image of her beautiful eyes rotating in a sarcastic manner at Mail's ridiculous comment. "Just don't tell me that I didn't warn you before if Mihael catch you red-handed doing this."_

 _Mail hushed again, a sign for his girlfriend to keep the voice down as the screen was now capturing a perfect image of Mihael—who was laying on a bed with a chocolate bar held in his hand, and Nate—who was sitting on the edge of the bed, one knee was up, embraced by an arm. The bed was just positioned next to the open window. And this act, of course, was done from a perfect angle and safe distance._

 _"I don't like it," Mihael's voice was the first to fill the scene. There was this absolute feeling of despise and disagreement which was hanging on the edge of his low voice._

 _"That's what I am," Nate countered, his voice clear, steady, and even. "And you've long known about this anyway," he said, his stares were cast down as his fingers were busy playing with a lock of his hair._

 _"That I-know-it-all-and-I' behavior of yours." The blond got up suddenly, sitting up, his eyes landing precisely on Nate. They were not the warm blue, they were icy, intended to pierce a hole through Nate's white head._

 _"But, still, you stay."_

 _Mihael was wordless. The mild, subtle skin of his face turned firm and stoic. His glares hardened, and the diameter of his eyes increased. They were static, looking at Nate, and it seemed as if they were shaking, even just slightly. "And …," he began again, his voice returning slowly, "that's what sickens me the most."_

 _"I can't believe it," Mail whispered to Linda, hissing with an absolute distaste. "They just fought yesterday and now they're fighting again? I thought this plan to get them spending some time in your villa was perfect!"_

 _"Shut up!" Linda warned, her voice low, but loud enough. "You'll make us get caught!"_

 _And, right on cue, Nate, who seemed to have realized the previous noises Linda and Mail had made got up from his seat on the bed. He paced slowly, calmly toward the open window, and, upon nearing his destination, Mail, cursed, "Shit, shit, shit!" And, he swiftly he took out the camera and put it at his side. The picture was now black._

 **A.I.**

 **Chapter III: The Universe, and Us**

 _There was a buzzy noise coming from two pairs of wheels._

 _"Move a little to the left. I need you to record it when I turn it on later."_

 _And as the screen shifted to the left, there came Mihael's voice, as well as his hand. He was clutching a robot—which resembled a mini toy car—with two pairs of black wheels attached on it. And then, slowly, he deactivated it and put down the robot on a wooden table._

 _"I still get the speed wrong. Wait a minute." The blond's voice echoed once more, and his hand disappeared from the screen, leaving only the immobilize robot on the table._

 _"What do you use to program it?" Nate's voice breezed in, a tinge of curiosity tinted his calm, steady voice. His sound felt much closer to the camera, so perhaps, he was the one in charge of holding the device now._

 _"Matlab," Mihael answered simply, his being was still absent from the screen. "I think Mathematic students should be familiar with it."_

 _"Yes. But, I only use it to do Numerical Method," Nate answered, confirming the blond's words. "I've read somewhere that there's some kind of software developed for robots controlling, so that people don't actually have to program it."_

 _Mihael hummed briefly before he responded, "Yeah. But, unfortunately, the professor wants us to use Matlab, and, whether we like it or not, we need to do some programming."_

 _"Whether we like it or not?" Nate was skeptical, perhaps, actually beyond that._

 _"Hm …?" Mihael droned out, inquiring back without actually uttering a single word. His attention was apparently locked on his own programming, as it could be heard, the noise of a keyboard's buttons being pressed in a mad speed. "Ah …," he murmured a moment later, and there was this understanding trailed on his voice. "I guess you don't know. But, there are many Computer Science students who don't actually like programming, like, at all." He laughed then at his own information._

 _"Then why did they choose Computer Science?" One was not capable of seeing Nate's facial expression, but the confusion in his query clearly spoke of the frown which was gracing his feature._

 _"Some don't know what major to take, some only follow what the others say." As he continued on typing the codes, he, once again, chuckled. "Anyway, it's the digital era. Most stuffs people did in the past are done by machines now, so it actually becomes one of many reasons why people choose Computer Science as their major. They want to get a job easily."_

 _"What a waste of money," Nate remarked quickly. "One shouldn't choose a major just because one wants to get a job, and the two previous reasons you've mentioned earlier are just pathetic excuses. Honestly, colleges and schools exist to give education, not jobs or entertainment."_

 _"Let's not make a quick judgment, Nate." Mihael scoffed, the noises of the keyboard's buttons were now mute, the indication that he had stopped whatever he had been putting into the codes. "People have their own situations, and so do I. I may haven't told you this when we just started this relationship, but I'll tell you now. I actually like music so much better than I like programming. I mean, it's not like I'm dumb at coding or something, but I would have majored Music and Arts if I hadn't taken Computer Science."_

 _"Then why?" Nate was beyond curious now, and possibly his frowns had only got deeper._

* * *

 _"I don't know the logical cause, but it's … peculiar …."_

 _"Hm?"_

 _The screen was now showing a scene of a bedroom. The room had this familiar, dim lit environment, and this somehow same blurry orange and yellow light._

 _"This relationship, ours." As Nate's voice, once more, filled the space, the screen of the video camera swooshed quickly and finally landed on Mihael's form. Presumably, Nate was the one in charge of holding the recording electronic._

 _Mihael was on the bed, laying half naked on his stomach as he looked at the recording screen, his blue stares longing for an accurate answer._

 _"We at least fight once in a week. Sometimes it's hazardous, sometimes it's just a stupid argument." For a few minutes, the atmosphere was holding a grip on the steady silence. "We hurt each other with our different perspective, goal, and view. But, why, why do you stay?"_

* * *

 _"Curiosity." Mihael's simple answer came as his hand filled the screen of the video camera. And then, swiftly, he pressed the orange button which resided on top of the robot body, and once again, it buzzed and came to life. "They say that music is the universal language, that everyone will understand the message behind it even when there's no lyrics. Well, I say they're wrong," As Mihael continued on talking, the robot was moving around, nevertheless, it had no destination. It was buzzing around, circling in an unintelligent manner. "Unfortunately, machines do not understand music, they only understand binary, and it's represented in numbers and equations. And what's more intriguing than …." His sentence found an abrupt interruption as the robot neared the edge of the table. Fortunately, the blond was swift enough to prevent its unintended fall. "… to understand how they really work, to make them understand what we humans want them to do." He then turned off the robot._

 _The screen shifted position, from the table to Mihael, who was standing in what seemed like to be a bedroom, in all black T-shirt and shorts. And Nate, the one in charge of holding the recording device did not say a word. He just kept his position still, and continued capturing his partner's now smiling face._

 _"Well," Mihael started. "I have a dream to make a machine that has human intelligent behavior. I will probably have to study until all my hair turns grey. But … you know what?" He faced the screen as he put aside the robot on the table beside him. And then, he paced slowly, nearing the video camera. "I think I've just found my starting point," he implied subtly, as he bent down, his face was perpendicular with the screen. And, it showed his young, flawless face, his lips drew a slight smile, and his ocean blue eyes beamed the light which reflected a mind as deep as the sea._

 _"What are you doing?" Nate asked. His sound was clear, nevertheless, it was also confused._

 _Mihael grabbed the camera with his hand and put it aside. The screen was now showing a pristine, clean wooden floor. "Looking at your eyes …," Mihael whispered, his voice low, and it seemed to be concentrating on something._

 _"I don't think you will find anything with looking at my eyes."_

 _"Well …," Mihael said tentatively. "I guess you're wrong."_

* * *

 _"Mail, I swear the next time I see you, you'll be dead."_

 _Mihael's hiss was the first thing which found way to the camera which was now in a state of recording. He was standing just a few meters from the screen. The camera itself seemed to be put on the ground, for all one could see was both of Mihael's bare feet. Next to him was another pair of slim feet, they were bare also, paler than his, especially with the glow of the moon which was blanketing the skin. Behind those feet was a lake with a tranquil water which was radiating the moon's midnight glow._

 _"Mail!" Mihael shouted._

 _"It's no use," Nate's voice chimed in. The smaller feet—presumably belonged to Nate—shifted closer to ones which belonged to Mihael. "Mail and Linda … they must have planned this," he explained. His voice sounded a little less than steady, as if he was trying to hold a shiver which was running down his spine._

 _"Damn it!" Mihael cursed, stomping closer to the camera and stopped a few inches in front of the screen. He then took a seat on the grassy ground, the side of his body was facing the camera, and cursed even more. Nate followed the angry man and sat in front of him._

 _Now that they were both sitting down, the screen was capable of capturing their bodies and faces as well. Mihael was sitting cross legged, while Nate was pulling both of his legs up, placing his arms around them protectively. They were half naked, with only swimming trunks to cover their private parts. Both were soaked wet to the bone. Both looked equally freezing, probably from the cruel midnight air and the remaining water which had decided to stay on their skins. Equally, almost, except Nate seemed to be shaking and Mihael was still holding the cold fine._

 _"Is Mail usually like … this?" Nate asked quietly, merely above whispers._

 _"He's an ass, alright," Mihael answered. "But he'll probably return our clothes tomorrow morning. And by that time, he'll be dead."_

 _"Okay … so, do you … do you have any clothe to cover our bodies?"_

 _Mihael was silent for a moment before he turned to face the freezing man next to him. He sighed audibly. "No, unfortunately," he answered between his sigh. He stared at Nate again, silent again this time. He seemed to be freezing. And then he finally sighed loudly. It was louder than the previous one, as if this one was a sign that he was reluctant, annoyed, angry, and unwilling. "Come here," he commanded immediately._

 _Nate looked up at the blond. The gesture was meant that he expected something from the older man._

 _"Come here, I'm_ _hot_ _enough to make you_ _heated_ _." Forcefully, Mihael grabbed Nate's wrist and eliminated the small gap between their bodies. And then, they collided, and crashed, and entangled as one. "God … your skin feels like the iceberg Titanic hit."_

 _At this, Nate chuckled, then he laughed, as he buried his damp head deeper into Mihael's bare chest._

 _"You know perfectly well that it was_ _not_ _meant to be a flirting." Mihael grunted, and then he huffed as he pulled at Nate's wet white strands lightly, jokingly._

 _Another laugh, and then, "Don't worry, I'm_ heated _enough now."_

 _"Maybe I should just leave you freezing to death."_

 _"You know perfectly well that I was just joking," Nate said as he looked up at the man which was now embracing his lithe form. And, if one squinted, one could perfectly see the subtle smile which was gracing Nate's pale face._

 _"Right … and your joke is as creepy as shit."_

 _"Leaving your assumption aside, I actually just want to say thank you." Nate's voice was a whisper, barely audible anymore._

 _Mihael gave no response, and, after that, the moment just went still, with quietness trailed along, growing between the two men and soon engulfed the atmosphere surrounding them. The only noise which was within earshot was the sound of crickets and the soft, deluding ripples which was produced by the water occupying the lake, and …._

 _"The sound of your heartbeats are noisy." Nate's attention abruptly landed on Mihael's face at the blond's comment._

 _"I've never been this close to anybody before," Nate breathed and admitted quietly. As If the confession was not meant to be heard. "So, I suppose it's my body's natural reaction."_

 _"Yeah, figured it out. You're such a creep, I doubt anybody would want to do the thing I'm doing now."_

 _"Then, why are you doing this?" the white man asked just as soon as he heard Mihael's response._

 _"Or would you rather I let you freeze to death?"_

 _Nate did not move, nor did he vented out any verbal response. A few seconds later, however, he was seen shaking his head as an answer to Mihael's retort._

 _"Good. Now be quite and shut up. You are a little more likeable when you're silent."_

 _Nate silently complied, at the same moment burying his head deeper into Mihael's chest. His compliance, nevertheless, lasted only for less than ten minutes. "Why do you think Mail and Linda did this?" he suddenly asked, bringing into the scene another conversation._

 _"I told you, Mail's an ass," Mihael simply answered._

 _"I can see that Mail can be sort of a ridiculous jester sometimes, but Linda isn't that type of girl to pull this kind of prank, especially to her own brother." This explanation, Nate's explanation, left Mihael without any word._

 _At Mihael's lack of response, Nate initiated his, "I was thinking about this … but the more I think, this just becomes more ridiculous." He paused, briefly, to look at the blond who seemed to be lost in his own trail of thoughts. "Simply, we can just assume that Linda did this only to entertain Mail's jest. However, once again, she's not that kind of girl to pull such prank."_

 _Mihael's eyelids rolled down, his eyes closed, and he sighed audibly. "Doesn't matter why," he said, breaking his chain of thoughts suddenly. "I'm still going to kill him."_

 _"No, Mihael …," Nate interjected, his voice desperate for a chance of speech. "I think there's a specific reason why they_ _have been_ _doing_ _this kind of thing_ _. And, I feel like a fool for having to realize this just a few moments ago."_

 _Mihael's embrace on Nate's person abruptly loosened as Nate's wild speculation dawned on him. He frowned, deep, and he stared at the man in his arms, demanding. "What are you talking about?"_

 _Nate was hesitant for a moment, however, he felt his words were struggling and forcing their ways to exit those thin lips of his. And thus, he said, "Linda and Mail, they don't need our assistances anymore. Yes, they did find it awkward when they first dated each other, but they're not anymore. And this thing, perhaps, has been going for quite a while. When I know Mail isn't a very sensible man sometimes, Linda is, and she's sharp to the feelings of people who are close to her."_

 _"Nate," Mihael injected, breaking the sequence of endless which was spinning out of Nate's lips. "Just get to the damn point. What do you mean?"_

 _Nate was abruptly silenced, and the first thing which Mihael received was this unexplainable stare which was gliding through Nate's eyes. The man pale inhaled then. "Linda and Mail, they want us to date each other," and dead-panned later. His exhale and words came out quick, unstoppable._

 _"What?" Mihael, despite being an intelligent man in his early twenties, retorted such an unintelligent response at Nate's abrupt answer. His young, immaculate face was a disorientation of fine confusion and pure shock. "But, why the fuck would they want us to … what, date each other? Is Linda even sensible enough to see that I don't even like you?" His frown only got deeper, and his once loosened arms were cradling Nate's form no more, as they were now positioned under his bare chest. The gesture and frown alone were the solid representation of his bewilderment._

 _"But I like you, probably more than I should have."_

* * *

 _Once again, it was silent. And again, it lasted only for a few brief seconds, as Nate's tense voice immediately arose. "I start to think that we're not actually in love. Perhaps, it's infatuation, you're infatuated and so am I."_

 _Mihael's once serious stares now showed a tinge of amusement. He got up suddenly, now sitting straight in front of the screen as a thin line of cracked up smile tagged along on his chaste, impeccable face. "Alright, alright, we_ _do_ _fight a lot, and some of them are stupid arguments, yes I know about that. I don't know about you, but I_ _think_ _that I_ _do_ _love you."_

 _A sigh escaped Nate. "Don't you understand, Mihael, don't you see it? The only thing which connects us is physical contacts. Just like this, we fought a few minutes ago, and then we made up by having sex."_

 _Mihael was silent for a brief moment. The amusement now long gone from his eyes, replaced by this stone hard gaze which was possibly intended to penetrate through Nate's soul. Finally, he sighed. "Nate, listen," he prompted, his stares softened, as he reached out to the camera, grabbing it then putting it down on the bed. From the picture which was layering the screen of the video camera, one could see that the camera was put diagonally, just a few inches apart from both of the men. "Honestly, I don't know." The screen was now exhibiting Mihael and Nate, both sitting cross legged on the bed, both facing each other. "And to be frank, the thought of ending this relationship have been occurring to me. But, you see, I can't and that often frustrates me." Slowly, Mihael eliminated the distance which bridged his being and Nate's. He took a hold of Nate's hand and pulled the younger man closer to him. He squeezed the hand staying in his palm and said, "I don't know about any of this confusing things, but I do know one thing, and I'm sure that …_ I can't and don't want to let you go _."_

* * *

 _"Do you believe in another dimension, Nate?"_

 _The same, familiar screen of a video camera was shifting, shaking slightly as it filmed the sky. The sky was a dark field, illuminated by only a few stars. Then, just as abruptly, the screen shifted position to Nate, who was sitting on a ground of evergreen grass with one knee propped up. His body was a static being, his silent gazes were locked solemnly on that very same field of stars. He seemed to ponder, about something, about the stars—about the universe, perhaps. And then, his attention on the stars faltered as he turned a few degrees, facing the camera. Nevertheless, his stares kept on holding that same level of solemnity._

 _"Can you imagine a universe where it's formed by dimensions other than the three dimensions?" Mihael inquired once more as he struggled to hold a proper balance of the shaking screen of the video camera._

 _"Well, can you?" Nate asked back. His dim eyes foretold something which could be noticed as curiosity._

* * *

 _"God, I can't stand you!" Mihael growled, his anger at its maximum peak. "What now, the window is more interesting than me!"_

 _Nate ignored Mihael's sign of attention needs as Mail's nervous chuckle resonated within the environment. And a moment later, Mihael's loud footsteps echoed, and then, he gasped in pure bewilderment. "Mail, Linda," the blond acknowledged the culprits with disbelief. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"_

 _Again, Mail's best response was his nervous chuckle. And, in the background, Linda's tired sigh could be heard._

 _"It looks like they've been eavesdropping our conversation for some time," when the ones in question were not answering, Nate took the opportunity to voice out his deduction. "And, not just eavesdropping, it seems like this whole thing was recorded as well." And, apparently, he had just spotted Mihael's stolen camera._

 _"Mail—"_

 _"Look," Mihael was about to release his anger when Linda abruptly cut it out. "Nate, Mihael, I'm sorry, we're sorry for bothering you guys. Mail—I mean, we didn't mean to do that, we-we just want to give your camera back."_

 _Mihael grunted, and that noise was a clear sign that he did not want to deal with anymore shit. "Look, Mail, I know all of this is your idea." Every word which had just been dripping from his lips was tainted with a distaste._

 _"Mihael …," Nate said softly, attempting to steal away his boyfriend's attention from his rising temper._

 _Mail's lips were fully zipped at this very moment, his body and mind went static. It was as if he was at a lost, wondering about the right word to ease his best friend's anger which was about to burst out of its limit. Unfortunately, it seemed that he lost it, he did not know anything or understand what it was which was capable of lifting the intoxicating atmosphere from them, and thus, he merely whispered, "I didn't mean to …."_

 _"Yeah, well, you didn't mean to, but it was still inappropriate!" Mihael griped as he failed to lock his animosity in place._

 _"Mihael," Nate tried once more, his voice now firmer._

 _"What?!" Mihael snapped at Nate. And, at that time, Nate knew that, whatever rational thought had been in his partner had evaporated from his head and joined with the grudging atmosphere between the four of them._

 _Nate apparently took in a deep breath, as one could hear the loud sigh which escaped him then. "Mihael," he started steadily. "It's okay, we all know that Mail bears no ill-will, and the recording can be deleted any time soon. Right now …." As he paused, Nate breathed out heavily. "Let's not make a big fuss about this." A brief pause, and then, "And, Linda, Mail, please leave us alone for now. It's midnight, so I assume the two of you might want to rest, so do I and Mihael."_

 _It was more than a clue, it was a notification that whatever would happen, Linda and Mail could not deal with it, and their presences were not a necessary. And it was subtle, at the same time it was clear enough that Nate did not want any third or fourth party to meddle with the mess which was storming inside his boyfriend's complicated mind. Thus, Mail and Linda left immediately, handing the camera to either Nate or Mihael, as the screen shook, as they took in Nate's words as a note, and as Linda whispered an apologetic: "Really, Nate, I'm sorry that it has to come to this.", to which Nate did not respond verbally. But, perhaps, he nodded._

 _And then, once again, it was quite, noises and sounds were mute. But as always, it lasted no more than a minute. And the shaking image finally found its stop, it was now filming a linoleum floor._

 _"This is fucking dumb." And it was Mihael who tore apart the remaining silence. After that, he stepped away, his footsteps were loud, echoing angrily through the camera. As he paced around, there surfaced a noise of a drawer opening, and then, some shuffling as well._

 _One more shuffling, and then, "Where are you going?" Nate's voice chimed in. And the picture of the camera shook, and after a brief second, it stopped, once again filming the same ground._

 _"Outside," Mihael simply answered, his footsteps sounded further. "I wanna chill, so don't wait for me."_

 _"I won't lock the door." Was all Nate mustered._

 _"Whatever," Mihael grumbled as the sound of the door opening echoed._

 _The_ 'click' _sound became the signal of the door fully closed, as well as the unwell conversation which had been raging between the two men._

* * *

 _At this very moment, and by Nate's sudden and abrupt confession, Mihael was officially stupefied. Even Nate himself was honestly shocked to his core by his own mindless, crazy words which had just spurted out from his usually sealed lips. And for the next few seconds, which seemed to feel like an eternity, both men were only staring at each other, lost in each other's eyes._

 _However, Nate broke the eye contact first, and he said, lowly, quietly, as he cast down his stares, avoiding the incredulous look which was dancing on Mihael's blue eyes, "You shouldn't have been very surprised. I often told you that your hate was one-sided anyway."_

 _"You should look at your face in the mirror before you start talking." Mihael was struggling to find something, just anything, to avert his stares at. And successfully, he found the lake to be sufficient enough for a temporary shift of attention. He brought his right hand then, to be positioned on his lips, the elbow resting on his thigh, to close them, seal them, as if he was afraid that the words he wanted to utter would be a mistake at this very moment._

 _A realization of this awkward situation and the unsettled atmosphere was eating both of the men's consciousness. While for the obvious this was not a situation one could call pleasant, the grudging silence which was engulfing the air gave Nate the sufficient time to think, to readjust the mess which was his very own thoughts, and … to dispel the shock which was caused, to the white haired man's surprise, by his own abrupt confession. For it, he was ungratefully grateful._

 _And, after what felt like a minute of struggling to puzzle every pieces of his thought and dignity which were left scattered, Nate finally found it in him to speak, "I …," he began, then, he cleared his throat, which possibly had been clear before, and he did so just to grab a hold of Mihael's attention. "I apologize for blurting out without thinking. That was highly uncharacteristic of me." Unfortunately, his attempt did not success. "I know the atmosphere here has become highly uncomfortable for us, and I'm not willing to force any answer from you, so …." His sentences halted, and he stood up from his seat. "Let's just forget that this ever happened in the first place." And he walked away, his paces nearing the bags which were located next to him._

 _Nate's previous effort was a failed one, but the noise of the bag's zipper successfully ripped Mihael's pretended immersion on the lake. "What are you doing?" he asked right away, and turned at the pale man._

 _"Searching for something to be made into a pillow. As you can see, the ground isn't that comfortable for my head," Nate answered without feeling the need to turn to the blond. His unsteady voice had found his firm, solid tone, and his composure now intact._

 _Mihael kept silent, he just kept on staring at those thin, slim, and slightly curved back which belonged to Nate, even when the white-haired man had settled his pillow._

 _"Good night, Mihael," Nate said, before finally landing with his back on the ground, trying with the best of his might to steal some sleep._

 _"Are you still cold?" Mihael asked, concern dripping as his voice had found its way to return to his throat. But his being was still a constant form, looking at the man in front of him even as those long, curved eyelashes slowly closed on a pair of black irises._

 _Nate only shook his head a little. That simple gesture suddenly became an abrupt end of their conversation. For the both of them, it seemed like the inevitable._

 _After that, for the next few hours, Mihael found Sleep to have run away from him. Even when he was laying on his back next to Nate, Sleep still refused to breeze in._

 _And,_ perhaps just perhaps _, as he finally put his palm on his chest, he found that his heartbeats were even noisier and louder than Nate's._

* * *

 _A sound of a turned door knob, a_ 'click' _, shuffling, a few footsteps, more shuffling, bed rattling, and then … a soft hum._

 _"Why do you always do this?" Mihael's voice echoed in the background of a screen picturing a bed lamp. The light, orange and tinted with the hue of yellow, was attracting a small moth. It was dancing around, flying mindlessly around the comforting illumination._

 _"Always? I just can't sleep," came Nate's soft answer._

 _"Liar," the blond retorted immediately. "I told you not to wait for me."_

 _There was a brief pause of their conversation, and the image was still._

 _"Are you chilled enough now?" Nate asked, but it sounded like an attempt to divert the previous topic._

 _Mihael, however, did not entertain that question. "Nate …." He breathed out, and it was loud and the noise was a demand of attention. "Put down the camera," he ordered, and his words came out slowly._

 _"Why would I?" Nate, nevertheless, was never one to comply one's demand without first knowing the point of that said command._

 _"I'm here, so you can stop doing whatever stuff you've been doing to entertain yourself in my short absence. I know you're bored out of your mind, especially without all of your puzzles and toys." And, honestly, Mihael was never one to give up either._

 _"I_ was _fine, Mihael," Nate insisted stubbornly. "You're making assumption."_

 _"Are you still mad?"_

 _"I said I was fine, and I am—"_

 _"—I'm sorry."_

 _And, that was when the image dropped and turned pitch black. Whatever happened, it seemed that the camera had been put away. A few seconds passed, and after that, the bed creaked once more, a sign that one of them had shifted position._

 _"I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. You know, I … I got carried away." The last of Mihael's word escaped his lips with a soft sigh._

 _Nate was silent as he heard his boyfriend's apology. The atmosphere was static, and so was the image of the video camera, until finally …._

 _"Why are you smiling like that?" Mihael's curious voice broke apart whatever static which had been hanging on them._

 _"I've just realized," Nate inserted a brief pause, and then, "that it's funny."_

 _"What's funny?"_

 _"The way we fight and have argument," Nate answered, a tinge of amusement was dangling on the edge of his voice as a sign of his short confirmation._

 _Hearing his partner's response immediately lifted the heavy air which had been blanketing both of the men's surrounding and environment, as an earnest chuckle abruptly left Mihael's lips in delight of the change of atmosphere. "I thought you were going to delete it right away."_

 _"I was planning to do exactly that, actually. But, as usual, my curiosity got the best of me. You know, Mihael … I think you should forgive Mail, thank him even, for this video."_

 _A laugh slipped from Mihael's lips, and he inquired, "Did we really look that silly?"_

 _"Hm …," was all which Nate mustered back._

 _"You should let me see it later," Mihael reminded. His laugh was beginning to subside, but the playfulness remained still. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about Mail—I'm no longer mad at him. Besides, I bet he will apologize properly in the morning. So, no big deal."_

 _"That's a relief," Nate remarked. "After all, I'm a hundred percent certain that Mail was the one who planned this whole vacation. I just suppose it will probably upset him that, after all of his good intention to bring in a good environment for us, we still fight over small, stupid thing."_

 _"Yeah …," Mihael absent-mindedly agreed to his boyfriend. "He thought that we were having sex, so he went all the way and intended to record it." And then, once more, his abrupt laugh filled the air. "That bastard."_

* * *

 _A chuckle then erupted from Mihael's lips. "No, of course, but I'd like to know." His answer was honest and direct. "You know, one day, a professor in one of my classes told me that supernatural beings can move across to our dimension, our very space vector of living. So, I'm just wondering, you know, that perhaps … we humans can cross another dimensions as well, maybe by using some kind of method."_

 _Nate turned his head upwards, the sky once more had gained his very attention. Now, he seemed to be even more deep drowned in the ocean of thoughts, as his stares seemed so far, far away, perhaps they were trying to cross another dimension Mihael had told him about. "I can't, too—imagine what another dimension look like—however, that'd be … a thrilling discovery."_

 _"Hm …," Mihael hummed, his tone completely giving away his agreement. "And if what he said were true, I … I would cross another dimension, the one where we can be together forever, like this."_

* * *

 _"How can you be so sure about that?" Nate's question was a fine mixture of amusement and confusion._

 _There was a noise of a shuffling before Mihael spoke informatively, "He gave me a lubricant, said that you would enjoy it wet and slick. See here?"_

 _Nate chuckled briefly at the mention of his intercourse preference. "That has been with you all this night?"_

 _"Yeah, I forgot to put it away." And then, MIhael followed suit, with his low, deep laugh. His chortle lasted for a few more minutes, and then, he was mute briefly before he spoke again, low and deep again, but tentatively this time. "Say …," he began. "Do you want to put this_ _thing_ _to a good use?"_

 _"Just tell me that you've been horny all this night," Nate countered. The camera may not be looking at him at this very moment, but his voice clearly gave the sign that, while saying that, he was rolling his eyes in a sarcastic manner._

 _Nevertheless, Mihael did not give up. A snigger then escaped his throat. "You just can't handle me being all sexy and tempting, can you?"_

 _"Mihael." That one word finally shut the blond. "Just put_ _it_ _on me now, and let's get started._

 _If a voice had the ability to make out a smug grin, that would have been Mihael's voice. "You know what, Nate? I really, really like it when you're being a demanding bitch like this."_

 _And then, a moment later, there were noises, deafening ones, as the bed was madly squeaking, the sheets were furiously rasping, and panting … as Nate was involuntary panting, breathing in and out, and moaning—and that was driving Mihael Keehl to the brink of his sanity. Whatever they were currently doing, the sounds produced by it was definitely impossible to ignore._

 _The noises, nevertheless, continued to dance along between the atmosphere for a few minutes until the picture shook, shifted, and finally found a proper stopping spot and balance. It had landed on Nate's face. There was that pale face again, filling the screen of the same video camera. Its porcelain skin tinted pink. Those thin lips parted ever so slightly, breathing in and out the ecstasy. And those bleak, black eyes were half closed, their vision clouded with pleasure._

 _"Do you seriously have to record this as well?" Nate managed to ask, even in the midst of the storm of pleasure which was raging a war on his body and mind._

 _"Of course I have to. You're having an orgasm and that's a perfect moment to be recorded." One of Mihael's hand came into the screen, grabbing the pale face. His thumb found its stop at the pale cheek, pressing the apparently soft skin as if it were a lump of dough. The thumb began to move in a circle, caressing the cheek with what one could comprehend as an affection. "C'mon,_ _Nate_ _, come for me."_

 _Nate's head—which was currently resting on a pillow—moved up and down in a constant motion. His parted lips let out a soft moan. "Stop it, Mihael." He meant to be clear, firm, and resolute. But, damn the pleasure, damn Mihael Keehl—he could not have possibly held back that moan. Thus, he brought a hand to cover the screen._

 _And the picture went black in an instant …._

 **To be Continued**

* * *

 **Author's note: No, I'm not dead, and this story isn't, too (in case you're wondering). If anyone is still interested in this story (and perhaps waiting for this third chapter), I apologize for the long hiatus. Before January 2016, I was still busy with college. But, actually, I've worked on this third chapter on the first day of January, but it went on many editing (due to my low satisfactory level of it). It was honestly hard for me to pull together all the scenes. But, there, it's finally finished.**

 **Anyway, this chapter has many references from what I've learned in college, especially the scene where Mello asked Near about another dimension (yes, a Mathematic professor who taught me several times told me that), and the robot part. No, I don't major AI, but I have a friend who does, and Mello's assignment was actually my friend's assignment.** **And for the ones (who are maybe wondering), no, this chapter has its own purpose, it's not a mere filler.**

 **Tell me what you think via review!**


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